


Slice of Silver

by roguearcanis



Category: Life of the Party D&D (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23380453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguearcanis/pseuds/roguearcanis
Summary: Of course Aerenthias is the one to take lethal damage.
Relationships: Astra/Aerenthias Van Wymarck, Cassian/Vanden, Sariel/Aerenthias Van Wymarck
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Slice of Silver

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in isolation and I haven't written anything in maybe ten years, what can I say?

The baleful, discordant howl echoed through the trees, its unnatural dying notes shuddering through Sariel’s chest. 

With Vanden’s javelin sticking into the roof of its mouth and jutting out the top of its head, still sparking with divine lightning, the aboleth convulsed and bent backwards, coiling like a strand of sailor’s rope, before crashing the ground amidst the party’s ruined camp. For a moment, no one dared to breathe. Silence fell upon the clearing, only broken by the night wind rustling through the branches above them. 

It must have slithered up from the nearby lake as they slept. Deep tracks of earth betrayed the grotesque eel’s path, tell-tale streaks of thick, viscous mucus smearing in its wake. Despite Jocelyn’s alarmed exclamations of “Awake! To arms! TO ARMS!”, the terror had been upon them before they knew what was happening. 

Boblem was the first to break the silence. Slumped to his knees on the rough ground and having at last come back to his senses, the dead creature’s warped control on his mind having broken as it screamed its last, the young druid looked about him, bewildered. “Wha-… What happened?”

Cassian, cheeks devoid of colour, helped Vanden to his feet, the prince’s grunt of pain screwing up his features. “My shoulder-“, he managed to grunt through gritted teeth, “Cassian, I think it’s dislocated…”

“It’s alright,” the elf murmured at his side, looping an arm around Vanden’s waist and supporting his weight, “You’re going to be alright”. Cassian looked around the ruined camp, trying to take stock of the rest of the party. “Is everyone okay? Sound off”

“F-Fine here…” came Elyse’s voice from the other side of the behemoth creature, her eyes wide as she took in it’s monstrous form.

“Sariel? Jocelyn?”

Jocelyn raised a hand in unnerved ascent, and Sariel could barely hear the words of affirmation that left her lips, her ears still ringing in the echoing silence around them. 

“Astra?” Cassian called, craning his head to look for the tiefling.

“Aerenthias…”

Astra’s lilt sounded distant and anguished, but had the effect of snapping all of their gazes in the same direction as if on command. Aerenthias, his roguish face turned up towards the sky, lay broken against a tree, blood pouring from a gaping lesion in his gut.

Aerenthias…

Without another word, the group desperately converged. 

“Did anyone see him go down??” Vanden demanded, his own pain forgotten as adrenaline surged him into action and practicality. Astra was already pulling the sailor into his lap, soft hands cupping at his cheeks and frantic tears burning in his golden eyes.

“Come on, Captain, wake up” he urged, his voice hitching, “Open those beautiful eyes for me, you can do it…” The breeze around them took on an arcane hum, Astra’s melodic intonation lacing his words with healing. Sariel dropped to her knees beside Astra and glanced over her shoulder at the shimmering, ghostly hare she had conjured earlier in the skirmish. With the swiftest of incantations, the hare disappeared from its position and reappeared beside her, its ethereal glow radiating out towards Aerenthias and encompassing the others who had gathered. Vanden let out a yelp of surprise in Cassian’s grasp, the hare’s healing aura sliding his shoulder back into position.

“Argh, Gods!” he swore, but the grimace of pain that had previously marred his features then seemed to melt away, “Th-Thank you, I-… I think.” A moment’s pause. “Why-… Why isn’t it working on him?”

Tension tugged at the air around them. Aerenthias’ eyes remained closed, breath stolen from his lips. His scarlet skin seemed drained of life; ashen and cold. A sob escaped from Astra, teal fingers coiling into Aerenthias’ blood-matted hair. 

“No… No, no, please… Not him, please… Not him…”

Limbs numb, but her fingers darting forward as though pulled by invisible strings, Sariel’s hands flitted to Aerenthias’ torso. She swiftly opened his ravaged jacket and pulled away his blood-soaked shirt, closely inspecting the vicious wound the aboleth’s fangs had wrought over his abdomen. Tracing deft, bloody fingers upwards, she held a hand against his chest, feeling for any signs of life. A sinking feeling plummeted into her stomach.

“We have to move him,” she heard herself breathlessly utter before she even knew her lips had moved, “Help me, help me move him!”

“Won’t that hurt him more?”

“Sariel, what are you doing?!”

“Listen to me!” the elf insisted, “We need to move him to the lake, and _quickly_. I’ve never done this myself, but I’ve watched it being done and this might be the only way.”

Very little protest was put up after that, many hands assisting in moving the privateer the short distance from the campsite to the now-calm water. Holding her thigh pouch aloft to keep it dry and wading out until she was waist-deep, Sariel beckoned the others forward. Astra, Cassian and Jocelyn waded out to meet her, cradling Aerenthias’ body between them in the gently lapping water. Vanden hesitated, wary, hand on the pommel of his sword, and Elyse, supporting a still bewildered and lost-looking Boblem, brought up the rear. Sariel ushered the others forward, reaching her hands towards the limp sailor floating serenely in the water. 

Cassian’s jaw was clenched resolutely, his eyes darting about in search of any untoward movements in the lake around them. Tears were spilling silently down Astra’s cheeks, and though the colour had drained from Jocelyn’s face, ever-professional, her voice didn’t falter as she spoke.

“Tell us what we need to do”

“This is a ritual of revivification,” the druid explained rapidly, already pulling ingredients from the satchel, “We need to make a number of offerings to persuade his soul to return to his body.” Sariel applied a scrunch of bitter-smelling herbs to the wound, rubbed a sprig of something between her hands and over Aerenthias’ form, before extracting a blindingly beautiful gem from a pocket. Sending a surge of magic through the diamond, it shattered to glass as fine as sand. Sariel carefully sprinkled glimmering powder over the privateer’s broken body, before turning to Captain d’Fabron. “Jocelyn. What can you offer his soul to persuade it to return to us?”

The Captain thought for a moment, words escaping her and leaving her mouth hanging open in dismay as she regarded Aerenthias’ ashen face. Then light flickered in her eyes as inspiration seemed to strike.

“Now, Sailor,” she commanded, as though finding strength and solace in her rank, “That’s quite enough now. You’ve told me that you have debts to repay, so you’d jolly well better get up to fulfil them.” She reached up and plucked the white feather from her hat, placing it on Aerenthias’ chest. “We both know I was the first to add feathers to my attire, but I suppose that… under the circumstances… I can relent and say that they do look as good, if not better on you. You’re right, they do add a bit of flair. Quite-… quite the finishing touch to a good silhouette…” Jocelyn’s words trailed off as she bit her bottom lip, quiet for a moment before glancing at Sariel, “Was that alright?…”

The druid nodded, forcing an encouraging smile to her lips despite the lump in her throat that threatened to choke her, before turning to the Astra, who was cradling Aerenthias’ head in his hands. “Astra? What would you offer?”

Astra flinched, his eyes tearing away momentarily from the privateer's face, as though Sariel’s words had shaken him out of a stupor. Salty tears clinging to his high cheekbones, he turned his gaze back to Aerenthias, his words catching in his throat as he spoke.

“I always thought you were invincible, you know that?” he murmured, stroking the hair from Aerenthias’ face, “An army of undead could have crashed through our barracks in Shadebourne and you wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. You would have been laughing as you took each one of them down…” A few beats of silence ensued as his words petered out, before Astra’s voice hitched desperately. “You can’t leave, not like this… Please-… Please stay with us… Stay with me, Firelight…”

Tears dripped from Astra’s chin into the gently lapping water around them, his vocal timbre shifting as he softly began to sing. A familiar, lilting Sylvan tune swelled from the bard, echoing in the darkness around them. The breeze lightly picked up around the group, whisking little spurts of water from the surface of the lake, shimmering flecks of golden light appearing around the tieflings as Astra sang. Fireflies. Tiny specks of hope in an impossible void. Cassian glanced back over his shoulder, sharing a look with Vanden, though both remained on their guard. 

As Astra’s song faded from his lips, the fireflies dimmed to floating golden embers, though their residual light was enough to cast a soft glow around the party. Sariel reached over and tenderly squeezed Astra’s hand, before turning her head towards the heavens. A waxing crescent moon hung lazily in the sky; a thin slice of silver suspended amongst the stars. Sehanine’s cyclical journey dictated that tonight was one for intentions, of sending one’s wishes and hopes aloft. She only hoped this wish was strong enough.

“Moon Mother…” she breathed, “Before you lies a man taken before his time. A man so bold, a man so fearless, that the warriors of legend would look to him in reverence. He has saved countless lives beneath your quiet, watchful gaze, and he has brought joy to us all here gathered tonight. But now is not his time to take his place with you and walk among your fields of stars.”

Though the moon was little more than a slither, the water around them gradually began to glow as though Sehanine was at her fullest and most powerful. The dark water turned silver around Aerenthias, licking at his sides and spilling over into his wound. Sariel paused, her words wavering, tears stinging at her eyes, “Please, my most radiant lady… I know that he has more to give. More to do, more to say and more chaos to wreak. More love to impart…” 

She glanced down at the still face of Aerenthias below them. Were it not for the blood, one could have mistaken him for sleeping. His soft, almost-smiling lips held no worry or tension, and his brows, so often quirked in impish defiance or furrowed with a problem to solve, were now relaxed with the ease that only comes with slumber. Sariel cupped his cheek in one hand, her thumb running ardently over his cheekbone. Reverently. Adoringly. She leaned in closer, her moonlit hair trailing down to touch his forehead.

“Bring him back to us…” she uttered, her quiet words a plea as she felt herself drawn ever closer, like a compass to its true North, “Breathe your grace into him once more…”

Her lips gently found his, her mouth edging closer and her hand slipping back into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

In death, his lips were cold. Chapped. Devoid of the hungry reciprocation she had sometimes imagined when she caught herself looking in his direction. But he still tasted sweet, and somehow indeterminately spicy. He tasted like adventure; high seas, woodsmoke, gunpowder. A man who would adventure no more. Holding his lips cradled against hers, tears spilled freely from her, falling inaudibly to his face and mingling with the blood accentuating his features.

Around them, the silvery moonlight dulled in the water. The embers of Astra’s fireflies wafted away on the breeze, hope dimming in all of their hearts. 

Aerenthias lay still in their arm; motionless and unbreathing. 

On the bank, Vanden let out a shuddered breath, disbelief and denial causing him to shake his head and rake bloody fingers back through his hair. A few feet away from him, Elyse held tight to Boblem, the druid’s hand coming up to cover his mouth. Astra let out an agonised sob, the sound shattering the silence somehow more painfully than their foe had done not minutes before. Cassian and Jocelyn stood in stunned silence, rooted to their spots in the water as though they would never walk again. 

Sariel’s lips hugged tighter to Aerenthias’, desperately, as though letting go would release him to the realms of reminiscence and memory. 

Until she felt the slightest of movements against her mouth; the first ray of sun as morning breaks.

“Thank you, darling…”

A pause.

“… Welcome back…” she whispered into his mouth, pulling back as breath filled Aerenthias’ chest. Honey gold eyes flickered open, catching hers, then flicking to Astra’s, which were welling up with tears again as a dumbfounded smile lit up his features.

“Don’t cry, Starlight…” he soothed, his voice a quiet rasp as he reached for Astra’s hand, the movement sending relief coursing through the gathered group. Tension released Sariel’s body and filtered away like waves washing away tracks in the sand. They were once again complete. 

“I-… I really did think we’d lost you…” Astra stammered out, holding Aerenthias’ hand to his cheek, “Thank the Gods some higher power heard us…”

“Not some higher power, dear one…” Aerenthias assured him, his eyelids fluttering into easy sleep, “I heard you… All of you… Each and every word…”


End file.
